#vestmarked

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋  𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃          ﹕          welcome,     higgs.

𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇     𝐎𝐅     𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇    is  something  he's  well    acquainted     with,     it  lingers  even  almost  a  football  stadium's  length  away,    traveling     along  the  wind.     you  could  never  escape  the  smell,     even  when  you  thought  you  were  miles  away  from  it  all.     tugging  his  pancho    closer     to  his  body,     the  cooler  air  coming  off  the  water  chills  him  to  the  bone,     barely    suppressing    the  chattering  of  his  teeth.    ❛    be   glad   you   ain't   any    closer     ⸻    if   you   think   it   smells   bad   now,     you   ain't   seen    nothin'.    ❜

@vestmarked || 100 non-verbal prompts || accepting!

𝟶𝟼. sender takes refuge from a storm with the receiver in an abandoned church.

dean's been sitting with his back against the pulpit listening to the wind kicking weathered shingles off the steepled roof of the old church for what feels like a handful of forever. eyes downcast towards the bible in his lap. one page after another folded in a zig-zag. the written word crinkled up like fans. words of comfort. words of encouragement or damnation now provide a welcome distraction from the chaos outside walls they both hope can withstand however bad it's gonna get outside. far more useful purpose than their original intent if you ask the hunter.

by the sounds of it? a world of rain's heading their way and the clap of thunder overhead? spells certain doom to their plans on leaving after the downpour stops and the wind dies out. the hail's a back up that starts plinking down like a million little pellets being shot at them from above. s'gonna be a minute..eh?

winter has teeth and it embeds into skin. occasionally she’ll tremble, pulling the corduroy jacket tight around her. she’ll tuck gloved hands between her arm and body just the sake of keeping parts of her hidden. jackson weather was cruel, but in the south it has a different set of teeth. he’d set up a little spot with rocks risen, some old tarp to try and contain its light. night’s too cruel without it.

she feels something drop onto her shoulders, thick and that smells a little like dust. it's probably been sitting in the stale air of a linen closet for too long, but she feels the chill finally easing off even if it is only just some. ellie pulls on the ends, closing them over each other. her shoulders curl and she closes into herself. “ you’re not cold? ” she asks, but @vestmarked doesn’t say anything, just hears the deep hum from above. she can tell its meant to be dismissive all by how it carries.

“ hey. ” ellie speaks again, head lifted up from where she sat upon the floor of the woods. the fire cracks before her, worn rubber of her shoes as close as it could be to not melt. it’d been the only part of her kept remotely warm until now. round each ankle there’s some stray laces to keeps denim taut to skin like his are done. it keeps the cold and the damp mostly out. palm pressed to soil she lifts herself, just enough to reach and knock her foot against the back of his leg. it’s to get his attention. she shrugs while sitting back into place. “ you’re going to freeze your ass off. ” her tone trails, head drifting to fall upon her own shoulder. it’s the most comfortable place she’s laid her head upon in awhile.

the smell of mildew is putrid. a couple of corridors away the rats are feasting, at home in the dinginess of vine grown walls and mold clad cement. guess it's better than the fuckin' rain, tess thinks. HEARS IT PELTING OFF WHAT'S LEFT OF THE ROOF ABOVE. the only good thing it offers her is a disguise. shadows to hide in as she moves through the fading daylight. she concocts a melody out of reach noisy droplet to distract from the ticking in her back of her mind. the clocks in this place haven't worked for years but she swears she can still hear them in the silence between their footfalls. as if they're mocking her.

judging by where the sun hangs in the sky tess figures she should've been back, oh ... three some odd hours ago. I'LL BE IN AND OUT- RELAX- (is what she'd said when she left) just another run. then again, she's always biting at the chain with a bloodied maw. she calculates all of her steps until she's one foot in front of the other and the whole plan gets turned upside down. LIKE TODAY. where she's drenched and unable to shake a chill to her bone because shit just couldn't go according to plan. hope for daryl's day to have at least worked more in their favour slipped away the second she saw him. damn near tripled when he spoke. FUCKIN' HELL.

"i look like the type'a person that don't want to know?" SPIT OUT ALONGSIDE A HEAVY THRUM OF HER BEATING ORGAN. i'll be in and out relax (famous last words) / i look like the type'a person that don't want to know (famous first words) brows pull back, determining whether she should had time to be concerned or if this was a pack-your-shit level crisis. "of course i want to fucking know, daryl." she slips around him like a silky shadow to stand in front of the doorway he planned to escape through. "what the fuck happened?"

his back is pressed to old wood, the weight of him bending where it'd began rotting. the exposure to elements, the lack of care in years. everything eventually catches in decay. he's been trying to swallow past the budding grief in his throat, how it constricts with each swallow. it’s been nothing put the sound of @vestmarked’s pacing, boots heavy in giving wood. shawn follows him back and fourth, sees the trail in dust thats now polished clean. this world has made anxiety raw in ways that become unspoken, expressed in heavy habits. “ daryl, ” he calls, shifting from wear he sat. the other doesn’t stop, only begins picking the skin by his nails.